


Invitation

by runsinthefamily



Series: Purgatory [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adventures, Hugging, M/M, Purgatory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-22
Updated: 2012-06-22
Packaged: 2017-11-08 08:26:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/441180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runsinthefamily/pseuds/runsinthefamily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <img/><p>A perfect 6 AM walk by Mathijs Delva<br/>http://www.flickriver.com/photos/mathijsd/popular-interesting/</p>
    </blockquote>





	Invitation

**Author's Note:**

> A perfect 6 AM walk by Mathijs Delva  
> http://www.flickriver.com/photos/mathijsd/popular-interesting/

Paths, roads, walkways, even the barest of trails, all these things are dangerous. 

“They are invitations,” says Cas. “And we should not accept.”

Which is fine, in theory, but leads to a lot of scrambling and cursing and then fighting in brambles and bushes and among trees packed so tight that Dean can’t get a good swing on anything and ends up falling over more often than not. Cas, of course, flows among the obstacles like water. Doesn’t so much as snag his stupid coat.

“You are a creature of civilization,” Cas says, offering him a hand up across the fallen tree that had treacherously crept up behind his knees.

“I’ve taken down my share of wildlife,” Dean says, irritably. “This forest has it in for me.”

“Likely true,” says Cas.

“You’re a real comfort in my time of need, you know that?” 

Cas cups a hand around the back of Dean’s neck and presses their foreheads together and Dean exhales, feeling warmth and ease creep along his limbs. This close, even in the darkness, he can see Cas’s eyelashes, the fine crinkles at the corner of his eyes, the delicate line of bone and cartilage along his nose. 

“Ok, I’m ok,” he says, without heat, and pushes away. “Let’s keep going.”

It gets more difficult, thickets and deadfalls and swampy, pitted ground that challenges even Cas. Dean stumbles over a rock, puts his hand down to catch himself, and then can’t lift it again. 

“Cas?” he says, schooling his voice away from panic. “Got a problem here.”

It takes them nearly five minutes to cut him free of the tangling vines and when they finally stagger away, Dean has welts from elbow to fingertips and the space beneath the trees is getting darker and then suddenly, they break through another grasping fence of branches into what can only be described as an avenue. Faint mist obscures the distance. Above, the trees weave together, stark and bare against the sky.

“Cas?” Dean asks.

“I don’t know,” says Cas. It’s his second most common turn of phrase, right behind _we should move on._

“I don’t see that we have much of a choice.” Dean looks back, sees the gap they’d torn with their bodies has already closed up. 

“Yes,” says Cas, and pulls his blade.

Dean follows suit. “Left or right?”

Cas closes his eyes and Dean’s skin tingles, all the hairs on his neck and arms standing up. 

“Shit,” he mutters, rubbing at his forearms. 

“Left,” says Cas and looks at Dean. “You felt me exert my will.”

“That’s what that was?” Dean rolls his shoulders.

Cas knits his brows. “I don’t like this. Your increasing perception of my angelic self is - dangerous.”

“My eyes aren’t boiling just yet,” says Dean. “Let’s go.” He turns left and moves on, his angel at his back.


End file.
